Get in Your Bunk!
by willwrite4fics
Summary: Newkirk uses this line a few times in the show on Carter when Carter has said something exceptionally stupid and annoyed Newkirk. What was the first time and why? Also, this is Carter's early days in the stalag.
1. Chapter 1

So I've always been absolutely delighted when Newkirk gets so annoyed with Carter saying something stupid that he tells him "Get in your bunk!" I'm not sure why, but it's just funny. He tells him "Go to your room!" once too, for the same meaning. So I decided to lay out how the first time might have happened and also at the same time tell a story of when Carter first arrived at the camp

* * *

Carter was sitting nervously at the community table in the barracks. He'd only been in Stalag 13 for a few days. He was trying to fit in and not make anyone mad at him and not get into any trouble and not get in the way of any guards and it really seemed as if he was failing at every one of those. No one trusted the 'new guy' which Carter understood. It had been the same way at the other stalag too.

A few of the other men living in the barracks came in, being rather boisterous. Carter shifted himself down to the end of the table quietly and they settled at the other end, chatting back and forth about a lot of different subjects. Most of it didn't make any sense to Carter, and he just stayed quiet down on his end. Two of them were speaking French and the other two were discussing some of the other prisoners. It took a few minutes for Carter to remember some names. The extremely small Frenchman was LeBeau and the other French speaker was a tall black American named Kinchloe. One of the others was another American, Olson and Carter couldn't remember the last man's name.

The door to the office at the end of the building opened and Colonel Hogan came out. The officer looked pretty distracted and breezed by them to exit the barracks. The instant he had appeared, every head turned to watch and the conversation stopped. But Colonel Hogan had simply given them a quick cocky smile and a little gesture of one hand to tell them they weren't needed.

Carter watched them all relax and go back to the discussions before the door had even closed behind the Colonel. He spoke up quietly. "It's too bad he's here."

He knew his words were wrong when every back stiffened and angry eyes turned on him. Olson was the first to speak, his voice tight with anger. "We're _lucky_ he's here and don't you ever speak ill of the Colonel around any of us."

Carter scooted slightly away on the bench, stammering as he tried to explain. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, then how did you mean it?" The other American got to his feet angrily.

Now Carter got up and backed away. "I... I just meant he could be f-fighting the Nazis and not locked up here... that's all."

"Oui." The little Frenchman nodded. "It is too bad he had to be captured by the filthy Germans." With his words, the other three relaxed slightly and settled back to continue their conversations, turning slightly to exclude Carter rather deliberately.

He'd eventually gone outside to wander the exercise area. He spotted one of the other inhabitants of the barracks with a few other prisoners and went to see what they were doing. The British airman had a deck of battered cards and was trying to get someone to play cards with him. For some reason most of the other POWs refused and Carter shyly stepped forward.

"I'll play gin with you." he offered. There were a few scoffing noises but his barracks mate smiled and slung a friendly arm around his shoulders.

"Now see? Carter 'ere knows 'ow to be friendly." The beaming man gestured towards one of the benches against the building. "Let's go 'ave a quick game, right?"

* * *

Carter was perusing his hand of cards and discarded one only to have it plucked up by the Englishman. He couldn't remember his name and was too embarrassed to ask it again. They played a few more minutes until Carter picked up a card and smiled. "Gin." He spread the cards out on the bench and watched the other man frown at them.

"Now 'ow did you do that?" His companion seemed a little confused but quickly smiled and shrugged. "Right, well, 'ere I'll just add my points..." He did so quickly and found a scrap of paper to pencil the numbers down carefully. "Right then, so you're up on old Newkirk for now. But I'll catch up next 'and, right?" He gave another quick grin as he got up, carefully tucking the cards safely in one of his coat pockets.

"I could play another hand, if you want." Carter didn't want to go back to the barracks to the unfriendly stares and he was still nervous about the German guards in the compound. They were certain to be mean and would take any chance to hit a prisoner, or they were friendly and Carter got hit by other prisoners for being too friendly. That's how it had been at the other stalag and he had few doubts that it would be that way here too. "I really wouldn't mind."

"Nah, I got a few things to get done meself." Flashing a quick grin at Carter, the Brit wandered off.

Carter watched him go and wondered if he really had anything to do. It was a prisoner of war camp. What task could he need to do right away? In the other camp, most of the day had been spent trying to fight off boredom and not much else. Newkirk didn't look like he was leaving to do anything urgent. He was just sauntering across the compound casually.

Finally Carter sighed and got up to walk the opposite direction. Maybe if he walked around the compound, he would find something to do.

* * *

Later in the afternoon when he entered the barracks, he immediately sniffed the air. There was something that smelled like food and his mouth was watering just at the thought. He spoke up right away. "What's that smell?"

LeBeau, the Frenchman, looked up from where he stood at the little woodstove. "I am making us a stew from vegetables. It will be ready in an hour." He stirred a pot set on the top of the stove carefully and then put a lid on it. "Does it smell good?"

"Wonderful!" Carter came closer to look at the pot and then stepped backwards, putting his hands behind his back. He didn't want to look like he expected any food from the other prisoner. "How do you get the stuff to make it? I thought that cooking in the barracks was forbidden."

"Oui." LeBeau shrugged. "But as long as our barracks' guard Schultz gets a taste, he doesn't care if I make things. Newkirk got the vegetables from the German officer's messhall. He's very good at getting things I need and so we all get a little extra to eat." He settled the big spoon on the edge of the table with a bit of cloth and headed for the door. "I have to go but I'll be right back. Don't touch the pot."

"What if a guard comes in and finds it?" asked Carter with some worry. He didn't want to be blamed for breaking the rules. At least not unless he was the one breaking the rules.

LeBeau scoffed. "If Schultz comes in, just tell him he can't have any until later when it's done. He's okay."

"Okay." Carter watched him leave. After a moment, he sat down at the table and sighed. Nothing really seemed to make sense. The prisoners didn't seem to fear the guards. He supposed that bribing this 'Schultz' kept him agreeable to some of the rule breaking. If he ran into the guard he would be nice to him too. That seemed safe.

Only a few moments later the door opened and a German guard stalked in, looking around the room with a frown. Carter had jumped to his feet and stood over by his bunk. Prisoners usually had to stand when guards came in and usually they were supposed to form up by their bunks in the case of a barracks' inspection. Carter wasn't sure if this counted as an inspection but figured better to be safe than sorry.

"Was is los?" The guard poked at the pot and frowned over at Carter.

"That's soup." When the guard began to try to lift the lid, Carter risked a mild protest. "You're not supposed to touch it."

"Was?" The guard was well muscled and loomed a bit over Carter when he came stalking over to frown down at the POW. He seemed to think a moment to come up with the English words. "Where came the 'soup'?" He pointed at the pot as he repeated the question.

Carter looked at the pot a second, trying to smile and not look nervous. If LeBeau had seemed okay with this 'Schultz', then Carter should be friendly to him. "Oh it's okay, Newkirk got the vegetables for it." He nodded encouragingly at the guard and then pointed at the pot himself. "The soup, Newkirk got the food to make the soup. He got it from the… from your messhall so it's okay." He smiled.

'Schultz' seemed to frown more at that and then peered closer at Carter. "Englander Newkirk?"

"Yes. Uhh… ja! He's from England. That's why he talks funny. I mean, I guess all of us talk funny to you because you're German and all. But he talks different funny than us Americans."

"Pah." The guard glared around at the barracks and then seemed to come to a decision and left quickly. Carter let out a sigh of relief. Maybe LeBeau was right and the guard wasn't a bad guy. He sat himself down at the table again. He was glad LeBeau had warned him that Schultz was okay. Otherwise he wouldn't have known to be nice to him.

* * *

The barracks was full of prisoners when Carter's 'Schultz' returned with another grim-faced guard. The door slammed open and they came in yelling for the POWs to line up for a barracks inspection.

Carter tried to stand at attention next to his bunk. Newkirk elbowed him over slightly out of the way as the second guard came to toss the mattresses off of both of their bunks.

"Come off it, 'ere now… there's no need for all that!" protested Newkirk as Carter's few possessions joined the bedding on the floor.

'Schultz' picked up LeBeau's pot and took it to the door to toss the contents outside. "Cooking is verboten!" He stomped over to Newkirk's footlocker and kicked it open. "Stealing food from the officer's messhall… verboten!"

Before he could even attempt to dodge, Newkirk was cuffed in the side of his face and knocked to the floor. The guard kicked him solidly in the ribs. "Verboten! Understand, Englander?!"

Lying on the floor, Newkirk raised his hands while wincing. "Yes… verboten! Verboten!"

"Gut!" Satisfied, the two guards gathered up the few leftover vegetables along with any items that had caught their interest, forbidden or not, and exited.

LeBeau crossed the room in an instant. "Are you hurt?" He helped Newkirk to his feet, patting him carefully.

"Oi, leave off, LeBeau. I'm fine." said Newkirk with a touch of annoyance. "Buggering goons!"

Carter wrung his hands anxiously. "I thought you said that Schultz was okay? That's not okay! He could have really hurt someone!"

LeBeau turned an incredulous look on him. "That wasn't Schultz!"

Kinch was gathering up bedding to put back onto the bunks. "Yeah, it would take three of Schmitt to make one Schultz!"

"It wasn't? But when he came in earlier I just assumed since he was coming in here that he was the Schultz that you told me about. I was really nice to him because you said he was okay, I mean… I try to be nice to everyone and all but not too nice to the Germans but I answered his questions and all. I mean, it's only polite to answer someone when they ask you something. My mom always..."

Kinchloe spoke up. "Answered what questions?!"

Carter hesitated. "Well, he asked about the stew. He was going to mess with the pot and I told him that he wasn't supposed to and then he asked where the vegetables came from and well… I..."

"You just told him that Newkirk stole them?!" Olson straightened up from gathering up his own letters. "You idiot! He could have whipped or shot Newkirk for that!" He started towards Carter with menace.

Everyone in the barracks was glaring and there were quite a few clenched fists as the collective group began towards him. Carter cringed slightly, knowing that the beating he would get was well deserved but dreading it nonetheless.

Before anyone could reach him, Newkirk jumped up to grab him by his flight jacket. "You ruddy idiot! You could 'ave bloody well gotten me killed!" He shook the American hard enough to make him see stars. "I oughta beat you bloody, I should!" He gave him a hard shove into the corner of the bunk. "Get in your bunk!"

Carter scrambled to comply. Climbing into his lower berth, he huddled towards the wall to stare fearfully out at the rest of the barracks. Newkirk railed about Carter's stupidity to the rest of the POWs who continued to send glares towards the bunk. Carter started to apologize.

Newkirk whirled and jumped towards the bunk to shout at him. "Did I say you could talk? You just shut up and sit there!"

Carter scooted back, drawing his legs fully into the bunk and wrapped his arms around them. It wasn't fair. He didn't know. He looked at the wall in front of his nose and lowered his head slightly. He knew not to talk to Germans though. Even though LeBeau had said that Schultz was okay, he hadn't said for Carter to go blabbing about stealing food. His glance out at the rest of the barracks showed him a lot of still-angry faces. He resolved to sit as quietly as possible.

* * *

End Chapter

So now Carter's in trouble... will he get beaten up? Will Newkirk ever forgive him? Stay tuned for the next chapter soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Well I'm very glad that this is popular, and please, have faith, things aren't always as bad as they might seem. Something Carter might want to remember as well. Thank you all for the huge outpouring of reviews and feedback. *bows*

* * *

CHAPTER 2

After nearly an hour, the officer came back into the barracks looking annoyed. "What's this I hear about the Krauts hitting someone?" A clamor of voices met him and he held up his hand to silence them. "One at a time."

LeBeau burst out with rapid fire French. Hogan rolled his eyes but Newkirk looked over before he could chastise the Frenchman. "Oi! Louis, in English!" He jerked his chin towards the empty stove. "A couple of the goons busted LeBeau cooking and tossed the bunks. They took some stuff but they didn't find anything major, sir." He turned his face away, pretending to be straightening his playing cards on the table. "Nothing out of the ordinary, sir."

Hogan stalked over and took Newkirk by his jaw. Looking at the slight mark on his cheekbone, he clenched his jaw in anger. "And punched you too?"

"Naw, sir, just a little smack." Newkirk shrugged it off. "They found some of the leftovers in me footlocker."

Hogan visibly collected himself. "I'll go have a talk with Klink. If he won't control his guards, we'll arrange things ourselves." He stepped away. "Kinch, keep a lid on our hotheads."

Kinch nodded. "Yes sir."

As Hogan reached for the door, Carter poked his head out. "Sir, it was really..."

Before he could finish, Newkirk put a hand onto his forehead and shoved him back out of sight. "Get back in your bunk!" He shrugged at Hogan. "New guys always wanting to give their blooming opinions, sir."

Hogan's eyes flicked to the shadowed bunk and then back up to Newkirk who seemed to make the smallest of gestures. "Right. I'll be back shortly." He nodded to LeBeau. "There's still some canned goods from the last Red Cross shipment under my bunk. I'm sure you can divide that up tonight."

"Yes sir, mon Colonel. I will." LeBeau barely waited until the door shut behind the senior officer before he went to the small office at the end of the barracks.

Carter tried one more time. "I was just going to tell him it was my fault that.."

"Did I say you could talk?!" roared Newkirk angrily. "Just bloody well sit there and shut up!"

"I'm sorry!" Carter drew back as far as possible as Newkirk booted the edge of the bunk hard enough to shake the entire thing. He clamped his lips shut and sat still again. Everything he did made everyone angry at him and he always screwed up.

"Bloody well shut it!" Newkirk stood glaring at him until he was sure the American would stay silent. Then he returned to the community table to settle in and pick up the deck of cards. "Bloody Yanks screw up everything."

"Hey, do I need to remind you where I came from, Peter?" The tall black man looked vaguely annoyed.

"No offense, Kinch." Newkirk's ruffled feathers seemed to vanish to be replaced with worry. "I just meant _new_ Yanks. Not you old timers."

"Old timers? I think that might be worse." Kinch's good humor returned and he gestured at the pack of cards. "Deal me in. We might as well get a hand or two in before LeBeau gets some food ready."

Olson joined them and most of the rest of the barracks gathered to watch and kibbitz to the great annoyance of the players. Carter sat in his bunk quietly and tried not to attract any more glares than he was already getting. Hogan returned looking annoyed and went into his office without speaking to anyone. LeBeau's efforts with the Red Cross food didn't take long and soon the POWs were heaping praise on the little Frenchman as they got plates of the mushy looking concoction.

Carter could smell the food but didn't dare even sniff loudly. LeBeau spooned food onto the last man's plate and then glanced towards the bunk. Carter scrunched back again. After a moment, LeBeau snatched up one of the extra plates and slapped a small heap of the mush onto it and practically stomped over to the bunk.

Just as he began to extend the plate to Carter there was a sudden protest from Newkirk. "Oi! You're not going to feed that stupid git, are you?" Newkirk pointed his fork at the cowering figure. "After 'e practically got me bloody killed?" The outrage was clear in his tone.

LeBeau seemed to hesitate but then looked at the pitiful expression on the young man hiding in his bunk. "Oui. I can't enjoy my meal with someone starving in the same room, even if it is a really stupid someone."

Newkirk made a lot of grumpy noises but LeBeau thrust the plate towards Carter. "Here. It's not much but then it's your fault that it's all we have tonight." LeBeau sounded annoyed himself.

Carter watched a few sympathetic looks but mostly everyone seemed to be siding with Newkirk. He ate quickly, wiping every scrap of the mush off the plate with his finger. It was surprisingly tasty. When LeBeau got up to wash his plate, Carter tried to scoot out himself, hoping to hide the movement behind the smaller man.

"Oi!" Newkirk had homed in on Carter instantly. He was up and headed towards the hapless American almost faster than Carter could throw himself back into the bunk. Almost. "Ruddy git." Newkirk returned to the table.

Kinch frowned at the Englishman. "He was just going to clean his plate, Newkirk." A few of the others nodded a little.

"Well, maybe 'e should 'ave uhhh, thought about that before he went and blabbed to the guards." Newkirk scowled back at Kinch.

Instead of arguing, Kinch just shook his head and finished his dinner. When he went to wash his plate, he reached in to scoop up Carter's plate too. A warning look directed at Newkirk made the annoyed man close his mouth on any protest.

By the time the men had all cleaned up, the door swung open to admit the fattest camp guard that Carter had ever seen. He was also possibly the oldest German soldier he'd ever seen too. "Come on, roll call! Everybody roll call, raus!" For all of the shouting, the POWs didn't seem impressed to move very quickly, taking their time to grab coats and hats and even fussing at the guard.

LeBeau wrapped a thick scarf around his neck, standing on tiptoes to make faces at the guard. "Oui Schultz, we know, we know. Roll call!"

Carter started to get out of the bunk and then drew back as Newkirk came to grab his greatcoat from the top bunk. The Englishman reached in and dragged Carter out by his jacket lapel. "Get out there! You'll bloody well get the whole barracks in trouble! How stupid can one Yank be?"

Carter was shoved towards the door and barely got his cap crammed onto his head before he scooted out of the door. He found his spot in the back row and stood there while the guards attempted to count all of the prisoners. The real Schultz seemed to get aggravated at the prisoners shouting at him but he never even threatened to hit any of them. Carter began to see the difference.

Schultz protested to Colonel Hogan finally. "Puuulease, Colonel Hogan, tell the boys to settle down so I can count them properly! They won't stand still! I am supposed to count all of the prisoners and they are supposed to stand in their rows!"

Hogan looked over with raised eyebrows at the men who all shifted around yet again. "Sorry Shultz. They're very nervous. When they get scared and nervous, they can't stand still."

Newkirk scoffed at Schultz, earning himself a reproachful frown. "Maybe you should count all of our fingers and divide by ten, Schultzy. Would that 'elp any?"

"Shush! Newkirk! Just stand there!" Schultz threw his pudgy hands in the air as Newkirk dodged back to reappear further down the line. "WHY are they so bad tonight, Colonel Hogan!?"

Once again, Hogan affected a surprised expression. "Well, you can't expect them to just stand there to get beaten, Schultz. Would you stand there if some big mean nasty Kraut was going to hit you for no reason?"

Schultz mulled that over. "Well no, I wouldn't if… wait a minute! I did not hit any prisoner! I am not a big mean nasty Kraut! And you shouldn't say Kraut. You should say 'good loyal German soldier'. That sounds nicer."

LeBeau glared up at him. "I think Bosch sounds better! Dirty filthy pigs! Brutes!"

"LeBeau!" Schultz shouted at the little Frenchman. "Stop that! You be nice!"

Before Schultz could get too distracted, Hogan spoke up again. "Well maybe _you_ didn't beat anyone, but Sergeant Schmitt did earlier. So the guys just all assumed that you'd be hitting them next." Carter was watching from right behind the Colonel and marveling at how he was manipulating the German guard so easily. It all seemed to be so true and reasonable to believe what the American officer was saying.

Schultz finally got an angry look and Carter drew back half a step, thinking that perhaps Colonel Hogan _had_ gone too far and the big German would actually begin hitting prisoners. But Schultz instead turned his glare onto the POWs and waved them into line with angry shouts. "Get into line! All of you! Right now! Line up!"

As much as the prisoners seemed fearless when it came to at least this particular guard, they did recognize something in his tone and settled into lines with a minimum of fuss. They still complained loudly but Schultz was able to get them counted. It wasn't until Carter saw Hogan's raised hand that he realized the prisoners were responding to their Colonel and not the guard at all.

When Schultz got to Newkirk, the Englishman rather dramatically cringed away, covering up his head. "No! Don't 'it me, Schultzy! I've been beat enough, I 'ave!"

Schultz stepped back and protested to Hogan. "I never touched him!"

Shrugging elaborately, Hogan reached out to pat Newkirk gently. "He's so frightened, Schultz. You see, he's the one that Schmitt was beating up earlier. You can't blame the poor man."

Schultz did seem upset but he finished counting and turned around to stand in front of the small group from barracks 2. That's when Carter saw Hogan's gentle hand on Newkirk's shoulder clench down hard. The Colonel pulled him in close to whisper. "Stop padding your part." He released him and Newkirk straightened up and glanced guiltily at Hogan before shifting just a few inches further away. LeBeau elbowed him lightly in annoyance making him wince slightly.

Once the kommandant had received all the reports that no prisoners were missing and made a short inane speech about how well the Germans were doing in winning the war, he dismissed them. Hogan paused instead of going directly inside and so Carter stopped short of the door to see what the Colonel was watching.

Schultz had stomped off angrily the instant they were dismissed. He headed directly for the guard from before and grabbed him up by his coat back. There seemed to be a lot of protestations but the big Sergeant Schultz didn't seem to be listening to any of it.

"Inside, Sergeant Carter." Colonel Hogan put an arm out as if to guide Carter inside. "Don't worry, Schultz won't actually hurt you." The officer had a kind twinkle in his eyes, far from the beaten down haggard gaze of the last ranking officer that Carter had been under. This officer looked like he had a secret that was amusing and that he would like to share. Hogan's arm went around Carter's shoulders and his hand pressed onto his arm through the flight jacket. Once inside, Hogan released Carter with a little fond pat and he walked away without a backwards glance. Kinchloe and Hogan went into his office looking as if they had a purpose. Carter found himself relaxing a little more. Colonel Hogan seemed like an officer who took proper care of his men and maybe things wouldn't be so bad here.

Turning to walk away, he almost stepped into Newkirk who was giving him an angry glare. Carter opened his mouth to apologize and shut it when the glare turned into a disapproving frown. Newkirk pointed and Carter immediately went to get into his bunk without another word being spoken.

LeBeau gave him a sympathetic look before he went to give Newkirk a punch in the arm. "Hey, Newkirk are you still grumpy? Come on, let's play some cards. I'll play you for a couple cigarettes." They settled at the table to play yet another hand of cards, with Olson immediately coming over to sit on LeBeau's side and give the Frenchman unwanted advice.

With everyone distracted, Carter took the risk of reaching out to get his footlocker open to get the battered paperback book he'd traded for at the last camp. He'd already read it twice but once more wouldn't hurt. Then maybe he could trade it for a book from someone else. Listening to the other men joking and teasing each other only a few feet away made him feel both homey and lonely. The other POWs seemed like nice enough guys and they joked with each other in a friendly way. If only Carter could figure out how to insert himself into the mix without screwing everything up. Well, if Newkirk ever let him out of his bunk, that is. Maybe by morning the Englishman would have forgotten all about it. He couldn't hold a grudge forever, could he?

* * *

End Chapter

I dunno, sometimes I think Newkirk could hold a grudge forever... well, we'll have to see next time. There are only 3 chapters to this story so one more to go. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

It's the third and final chapter of the story... is Newkirk really able to be mean this long and hold a grudge forever? Find out in this installment of... Get In Your Bunk!

Disclaimer: I own no rights towards any of the show or characters, all mistakes are mine alone. I share kudos to my Twitter crew for encouragement and my beta TinySprite who is always, as ever, made out of awesome and win.

* * *

Chapter 3

Far too early in the morning, Schultz came barging in, bellowing for everyone to get up and go out for roll call right away. Carter stuffed his feet into his boots and found his hat as quickly as possible. The night before had been unpleasant as his bunkmate had found plenty of times to make comments directed at Carter. While the younger American thought that he saw a little sympathy from LeBeau, and Kinchloe had spoken up once to chastise Newkirk, most of the rest of the barracks still seemed to agree with Newkirk. Once the lights were out, Carter had gone to sleep quickly, being awoken only once when he thought he heard someone moving around the barracks. He'd decided to keep his nose out of whoever's business it was for once and rolled over and gone back to sleep.

This morning, everyone seemed more interested in getting their clothing on than in whether Carter was doing what he was supposed to. Carter, for his part, made certain that he was one of the first ones out the door and standing in his place so that no one could find fault in him.

Colonel Hogan emerged and took his spot in front of Carter. The officer looked tired and Carter wondered if he'd had a poor night's sleep. Carter decided to at least make the attempt to be friendly and nice. "G-good morning, sir. I hope you rested well."

Before Hogan could turn to look at him, Newkirk twisted to glare. Both hands were jammed deep in his coat pockets and he looked a lot more rumpled than Carter thought he should, even for just getting up. "Shut up, you twister. No one needs to 'ear from you."

Hogan made a soft noise and Newkirk turned back around to face forward, grumbling softly. Hogan watched his British corporal for a moment until he quieted. Then he turned enough to give Carter a little smile. "Good morning Sergeant Carter. Thank you. It's nice to get a civil greeting first thing in the morning. Some people might think about adopting that sort of attitude." His smile took in the cold Englishman who muttered under his breath softly. "I _said_ … some people might think about adopting that sort of attitude..." repeated Hogan firmly.

Tilting his head a bit, Newkirk responded with gritted teeth. "Good _morning_ , Colonel Hogan, sir. It's a bloody lovely morning, sir, don't you think, sir? Perhaps, sir, later we might go on another wee little stroll, sir, considering that the last stroll we went on, went so very bleeding well…. sir." His eyes shifted to Hogan and even though he was getting a withering look from his C.O., he didn't seem very fazed. "Sir, I'm not _quite_ limping, not yet anyway… sir. But I'll do me very _best_ to be cheerful for you, sir." He smiled in a way that made Carter want to edge away.

"Newkirk..." Hogan's tone was quite clear to Carter and even the annoyed Newkirk finally settled. "If I remember correctly, you did want to go on that stroll. In fact, need I remind you that you _insisted_ on strolling."

Newkirk's gaze dropped and he shuffled his feet a little. "Yes sir." After a quiet second or two, he glanced up and then fastened his eyes on the ground again. "Sorry guv'ner."

"Better." Hogan wrapped his arms around himself as he turned his attention back to the compound. "Maybe later today you can pick some daisies. That should cheer you up."

"Yes sir." Newkirk sounded extremely resigned to whatever 'picking daisies' meant. Carter would bet that it had nothing to do with wildflowers. As long as the 'new guy' Carter was standing nearby, he would expect for anything underhanded to be talked of only in code. Until they could trust him, the POWs in the camp would keep all references to escape plans and such quiet. Carter would have done the same thing. After all, the Germans could be trying to slip in a ringer disguised as a POW.

Carter shuffled his feet too suddenly. Or instead of a disguised German, it could just be a big-mouthed American.

Schultz came down the line counting and looked excessively pleased to have the right amount of prisoners. That made Carter a little confused too. Why would the guard not expect there to be the right number? The kommandant had been very adamant about there never having been a successful escape. Maybe the guard was just nervous about attempted escapes.

His head jerked up when everyone began to mill around. He'd let his attention drift off again and missed whatever morning speech their German captor had given. He supposed that wasn't a big loss. Every morning it was the same theme. No one ever escaped, the Germans were winning the war, and finally there was sometimes a request for volunteers to do various work projects. Sometimes Hogan would give in and some of the POWs would go repair roads or shovel snow. Sometimes he refused and no one did any work at all.

But that was all officer stuff. Nothing for Carter to worry over. So far, he hadn't even had to go on any hard work details. He'd picked up trash in the compound a few times but nothing else. He filed inside with the others, listening to their tired morning chatter. Before he could even look around, Newkirk gave him a shove and Carter sighed and headed for his bunk without waiting.

This time LeBeau spoke up. "Hey Carter, you don't have to do that." The little Frenchman walked over to stand in front of Newkirk. "Don't you think you're being just a little hard on him? He just made a mistake."

Newkirk glowered down at LeBeau. His eyes glanced around the room to check for who might back him up. "I think that I got a right to be 'ard on the stupid git."

"Yeah, but you've _been_ hard on him already so get over it." Surprising Carter, Olsen came to his defense too. "You hold a grudge too long, Newkirk. Give it up and let the guy alone." Olsen even came over to tug Carter out of his bunk and pretended to brush him off a bit. "Don't pay any attention to the surly old limey. He's just grumpy."

Carter wrung his hands a little, looking around. "It's okay, I would be mad too. I shouldn't have said anything at all."

LeBeau smiled and nodded. "No but you didn't know. I should have made sure you knew which guard to trust and which ones are pigs." His gaze went back to Newkirk who continued to frown. "Just leave him alone. He didn't mean it and he already said he was sorry."

Newkirk opened his mouth to retort angrily but at that moment, Kinchloe and Hogan came back out of the office. Kinchloe smiled at Carter and the rest. "Hey, did Newkirk finally forgive you after all? Good for you, Newkirk. I knew you wouldn't keep holding that grudge forever." Kinch went for the coffeepot to pour a cup. "Carter, you'll find that Newkirk isn't a bad guy. He's just grumpy."

Olsen grinned and nudged Carter with an elbow. "I already told him that."

Sounding defensive and still angry, Newkirk tossed his metal cup into the sink and headed out of the barracks by himself. "Well I'll just leave the bloody 'Carter appreciation club' to your bloody selves then. I'm going to get breakfast."

Grinning, LeBeau called after the retreating man. "Don't forget I need more vegetables and I want my pot back too!" The noises that came back just before the door shut firmly didn't sound very complimentary.

LeBeau didn't seem bothered by it at all. "Don't worry, Sergeant Carter. Le Anglaise will replace the stuff that the Krauts took. Until then we'll have to make do with messhall food though."

Colonel Hogan smiled around his coffeecup as he sipped. "Can I assume by all this fuss that whatever I wasn't being told about is now resolved and I don't need to get involved?"

Kinch sobered and nodded overly seriously. "Yes sir. We don't need any officer style interference."

"Oh good." Hogan blinked solemnly. "I do so like to feel useless around here." Before Carter could begin to speak up, he flipped a hand towards the door. "Come on then, let's go get what the Germans are calling food this morning. Wouldn't want it to get cold."

Olsen was making a face. "Sir, it's a piece of bread. It's already cold."

Wrapping his scarf around his neck, LeBeau piped up. "The coffee is usually warm!"

Olsen had a retort to that as well. "I don't think being warm improves that sludge they call coffee."

Kinch shooed all of the men out behind Hogan. "It sure don't hurt it any either. Come on, Carter, we better hurry or these guys will steal our breakfasts too. And the goons won't give seconds."

"Sure thing!" Carter let himself be taken along in the group quite happily. If they were willing to forgive and forget, then he'd be happy to go along with whatever they wanted to do. Anything, as long as he wasn't being shunned any longer. As they walked across the compound towards the messhall, he saw another of the British POWs and stopped smiling. Maybe he could even make up with Newkirk. After all, they were bunkmates, and if the Englishman was going to stay angry with him, it would make life in the barracks uncomfortable.

* * *

After having the brown liquid they called coffee and his piece of brown bread, Carter wandered out through the compound trying to stretch his legs but not get too close to any guards, fences, towers, offices or other POWs. If he was mostly forgiven, he wanted to stay in the good graces of everyone that he could.

When he rounded one of the barracks buildings, he spotted Newkirk seated on a bench outside and hesitated before he straightened up and steeled himself to confront him. Carter pushed down his nervousness and approached the bench, careful to not get within easy hitting distance. He cleared his throat as Newkirk watched him silently.

"I uhhh, I'm... I want to apologize. Again. Cause I know it was dumb to tell a guard anything but LeBeau did say to be nice to Schultz and I just assumed it was that guard. I mean, it's not LeBeau's fault at all, it's all me. Don't get mad at anyone else. I mean, I don't want you mad at me, but if you are mad, I understand because it was my fault and I was stupid. But I wish you weren't mad at me. But I still understand if you want to stay mad." Carter finally closed his mouth before he blathered on too much.

Newkirk took a long drag on his cigarette, looking rather amused at the long apology. His eyes held a lot more humor than made sense right now. He breathed out the smoke slowly before he spoke.

"Look mate, it was an 'onest mistake. You're new, you'll make some dumb moves. I'll try to 'ang about and yank your arse out of trouble when you do. You'll catch on."

This wasn't anything Carter had expected. "But... but you're were so mad at me..."

"Wasn't that brassed off at you. Couldn't be arsed to get angry over every little bodge a new bloke makes." There was definitely amusement in Newkirk's voice now. He seemed to be having a private laugh at Carter's apology.

"But..."

"I didn't want all the other blokes to beat your arse bloody over it."

"I don't understand."Carter was completely confused now.

"You don't catch on real quick, do you?" Newkirk took another long drag on his cigarette and crushed the spent butt out on the edge of the bench. "Give me a fag and I'll explain it."

Carter looked puzzled but dug around in his pockets to find a cigarette pack. He handed them over. "I really don't smoke much anyway."

"Thanks mate, that's right kind of you." Newkirk shook out one and tucked the rest into a pocket safely. "So, everyone in the barracks wanted to give you a beating, right?" He waited for Carter to nod, taking the moment to light up the cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke trail out slowly. "American cigarettes." His eyes flicked around, checking the compound. Carter noticed he never seemed to stop looking around. "If I 'ad stood up for you and told them not to beat you, they'd beat you and probably beat me too. Or I'd 'ave to fight them and they're mostly good mates, you understand? So I decided I'd just get the jump on punishing you. If you were being punished, they wouldn't butt in to deal out anything extra, see?" He smiled slyly and indicated the compound with a lazy wave of the cigarette. "There's unspoken rules about that sort of thing. It was me that you wronged the most, so I 'ad dibs on 'anding out some damage."

Carter frowned. "So you're saying that you treated me like dirt to keep everyone else from doing it? You think that you yelling at me and making me feel horrible would make everyone else not be mad? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! That's... that's just stupid." He was trying really hard not to feel outraged but... he suddenly thought it through again. Didn't everyone seem to be over being mad at him? Wasn't it true that not one person had laid a finger on him, even when they all had wanted to beat him up? Of course they had wanted to beat him but then Newkirk had shoved him... into his bunk... his eyes fastened on the still-so-amused expression. "You made them like me by making them think you were being mean."

Snorting softly, Newkirk waved the cigarette in his direction. "You _are_ a slow one."

Carter continued to stare at him. "Well... ummm... thanks."

Newkirk's face broke into an easy smile. "You're welcome but don't mention it. I wouldn't want anyone 'ere thinking that I go about manipulating folks, you understand. Not my place. That's the guv'ner's job."

"I don't understand." Carter backed up as Newkirk unfolded gracefully from the bench to begin walking back towards Barracks Two. He fell in beside the Englishman. "Who's the governor?"

"Why, Colonel Hogan, of course." Newkirk's smile widened as he saw Kinchloe giving him some hand signal. "And as far as you understanding, it looks like you're about to get some explanations." He nudged Carter with an elbow. "Welcome to the rabbithole, Yank."

Carter blinked in confusion and turned to see Colonel Hogan waiting for him, arms wrapped around his ribs and leaning against the barracks wall casually. That clever expression that said he was keeping far too many interesting secrets was still in place and this time he was looking directly at Carter.

"Come along Sergeant Carter." Hogan stood up and put one fatherly arm around Carter's shoulders. "We have a few things to show you…"

* * *

The End

And that's how Carter was welcomed into the madhouse. At least, here in my little universe(this version of it, anyway).

Thank you for reading!


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